Page 47 of Wildfire
“Sure, mate. Sure.”
THE COMMUNAL BATHROOM IS BIGenough for both me and Aurora—several more of us in fact—and yet we’re standing so close to each other I can feel the heat radiating from her body.
“It’s no use,” she groans, wiping the wet cloth across her neck over and over. “I’m destined to look like a colorful dalmatian forever.”
“Come here.” Lifting at her waist, I sit her on the counter and take the cloth from her hand. Her knees slide apart, letting me step between them as I gently tilt her face upward, giving me access to the parts of her painted different colors. “They really got you good.”
As soon as the kids realized how good Aurora was, she became their biggest target. She hums as I slowly clean along her jawline, and when I move down her neck, she shivers. Her cheeks flush pink, but we both ignore it and whatever it might mean. “How are you today?” she asks, ending the silence between us.
“You don’t like silence, huh?”
“You don’t like answering questions, huh?”
“Okay, you got me there. Today was, uh, honestly easier than I was expecting. Being distracted helps, I think. What about you?”
“Same. I think all I’ve ever really wanted was for people to want to spend time with me. Because my dad just doesn’t, no matter which way people sugarcoat it, and my mom wants to spend time with me but—” I move her face slowly, tilting it to get the other side of it. “I can’t describe it without sounding horrible. Like, I don’t know. She suffocates me sometimes and it’s too much. But the kids want me around because they think I’m nice, and as pathetic as that sounds, it means a lot to me.”
“It’s not pathetic.”
“And they can’t leave.” She forces a laugh. “So that’s good.”
“You deserve people in your life who make you feel good, Aurora.”
“You make me feel good.”
She turns back to face me, her pretty green eyes staring up at me through her long eyelashes. I want to rub my thumb along her bottom lip, kiss her, see if she tastes as good as I remember. She hesitates, but I recognize the look on her face. The one she gets when she wants to ask me something, but doesn’t know how to.
“Just ask me, sweetheart. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
“It doesn’t matter. We should get back to the barbecue before someone gets the wrong idea. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Aurora slides forward until her body is flush with mine and I take a step back, a few seconds later than I should have, but I deserve credit for doing it at all. My hands link with hers as I help her hop down, but then I let her walk past toward the exit.
“Rory,” I call, turning and leaning against the counter she was just sitting on. She stops by the door, watching me with interest. “You make me feel good, too.”
Chapter FifteenRUSS
MY RINGING PHONE INTERRUPTS MYrunning playlist for what feels like the millionth time in the past hour and my brother has officially irritated me to the point that I’m willing to answer just to tell him to stop fucking calling me.
“What do you want, Ethan?” My loud voice is a jarring addition to the tranquil Honey Acres morning. The horses grazing in the field beside my running route look at me wild-eyed, letting out a displeased neigh before scampering away from the fence line, spooked.
The best part about this place is the terrible reception, but there are certain patches that have pockets of service just long enough for my family to invade my peace.
“You’re a piece of shit for never answering anyone’s calls.” It’s a strong start, not unexpected. “You need to fucking grow up.”
No matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing or how closely I follow the rules and pray that it’ll be enough, the universe finds a way to humble me.
“What do you want, Ethan?” I ask again, the frustration from earlier diluted by the prickle of his words.
“Dad is in the hospital. Mom’s asking for you; she wants youthere. So stop burying your head in the sand and pretending you’re not part of this family, like a selfish prick, and support her.”
You’d expect my reaction to finding out my dad is in the hospital to be more emotional, but my first thought is I wonder how he landed himself in that situation. I’ve been here before, so it’s not much of a surprise: When he pawned Mom’s jewelry and the guilt made him drink so much he needed to get his stomach pumped. When he was in a fight at a casino and ended up needing stitches. When he crashed his car, but swore he hadn’t been drinking.
“I can’t. I’m working.”
“Grow the fuck up,” he says harshly. “If you don’t get your ass on the road in the next hour, I’m going to come to that camp you’re at and drag you home by your hair.”
“Which state are you going to travel from to do that? You’re going to interrupt your tour for this?” Ethan and I have never had that close brotherly connection people talk about. Our seven-year age gap was too big to overcome when coupled with his never wanting to be in Dad’s verbal firing line. I’ve always been angry he left me alone, but I’m not sure I would have made a different choice if I were the older one.
